Ambient Light
by bluexeyes
Summary: The story of the Romanians and the Volturi told-in detail-from the beginning of Stefan and Vladimir's life. Mature content in later chapters. AU, if you want to get terribly technical. Please R&R.
1. Preface

**A/N: This is the preface to a story I'm writing. My friend and I were talking in class today that Stephanie Meyer would've done a lot better if she had simply written about the Romanians and Volturi. So this is the wonderous creation of our Twi-Hate (even though the two of us are huge fans).**

**Anyways, please read and review, let me know how much I suck. Chapter 1 should be up this weekend sometime.**

Power is a very fine line of work. Things can be very complicated and very simple, all in one fellow swoop. However, in reality, who draws the lines? Who – with all their God forsaken right – decides what power is? Alternatively, who is involved with the decisions of that power? Those with said power – those who can control all others, can only draw the lines. It is a very difficult process, as it was once said, to determine within a kingdom what is right and what is wrong. When these are determined, the kingdom will either suffer or flourish under the rule of a decent leader and human being. Then, this is saying that all leaders are human. Was it not once believed – by the Egyptians, Romans and countless others – that the true leaders were descendants of God? Let us take that thought in the other direction. Assume the leaders were the forsaken, the damned, and the criminals. Assume that the people you looked to for advice were corrupt in a way beyond their own power. They are the soulless, evil creatures of the night – of the darkness that humans so fear. Assume these were the ones you expected to guide your entire kingdom. Would you still believe they had a right to the power? Would you still trust them with your humanity?

This life began as many other tragedies do. Death is the start of any decent story, the start of all great tragedies. These men are gods, in the beginning, beings of infinite power with much to give the world in way of light and knowledge. In reality, they brought much more to the table than many realize. We will start with the beginning, before their immortality, before their rule and ultimate downfall. Please, let us begin where we should.


	2. The things we say help to the decay

**Chapter 1 - The things we say help to the decay.**

Two young men, in the prime of their life, strolled with confidence down the long corridor. Both men were of excellent social standing, with many other things going for them – looks, power and the ability to use it all. Tonight, however, they were meeting with these women on behalf of their mother – Stefan's mother, as Vladimir was adopted into the family. These women were far older than the two young men had dealt with before. Stefan Alexandrescu was highly thought of in this society – hair dark as pitch and a very social attitude made him well known in many parts of Romania.

The corridor was long, terribly so, and drove Vladimir into a form of fits. Grumbled and muffled complaints were met with Stefan's carefree laughter. This continued for a bit of time before they met the ornate doorway. Very ancient, would be the best way to describe the scene of terror engraved into the stone. Vladimir was intrigued, though his companion found it unnecessary. Both boys pushed past the doors – which required some effort – and into the large room behind.

Ornate gold lined the walls and ceiling – which rose above their heads in a startling fashion. Similar ghoulish scenes met their gaze upward, causing Stefan to divert his attention while Vladimir continued in interest. The floors were marble; large tiles almost the size of a man were laced in perfect arrangement. Meticulous planning was put into this room, as the tiles dropped off into a small bridge, where a river flowed freely through the room. Across the bridge sat four large thrones – each carved carefully out of marble – of which two were empty. In the middle of the arrangement sat two women – both raven haired with high cheekbones and pale faces. Both were just as – if not more – gorgeous than the room itself. Both women blended easily into the pale marble they sat on.

The first to rise painted a smile on her gorgeous face. Her lips were abnormally red against the pale skin; dark hair was pinned back save for two strands of hair that curled down to her waist. Stefan's interest perked at the less-than-modest dress she wore; dark silk that was cut low and a slit that rose high. He stepped forward and bowed, as was custom, knocking Vladimir's arm to remind him to do the same.

"Madam," he began in a thick accent as he rose to stand again. "I assume you have heard why we are here."

"Of course," calm the velveteen reply, lips barely moving. She moved with quick grace, to the line of the water. "Please, if we could speak here, I would be very appreciative."

Obliging, both boys stepped over the river and on to the side that the women sat. The one that was sitting matched her companion's description to a point, leading both boys to the conclusion that these women were related. Vladimir watched the reclined one as she relayed a small toy between her fingers with a startling speed. His heart picked up as he began to piece together their situation.

"I thought they would be older," he whispered into his brothers' ear, stepping closer so the women would not see his lips. Stefan offered a nod, watching both women in silence, enraptured by the first's beauty. His companions blonde head turned, bright cerulean danced over her form with a bit of fright. The second smiled and rose, moving with her frightening speed towards the young blonde. Her hand gripped his throat and lifted him, the smile still plastered to her face. Vladimir jerked and struggled, trying desperately to be free from her grasp.

Stefan, without much thought to the fact that these were women, drew the sword at his side and swung at his sibling's attacker. The sound of metal hitting rock echoed throughout the room. Both boys stopped until all that could be heard was their own shallow breaths.

"Yes," answered the first woman to the silent conclusion. The second dropped her prey, which lost his footing and fell into the shallow water below. He stared up at the two women before scrambling back, desperation wearing on his ability to gather decent footing. With this conclusion, Stefan pushed past the women, sword in hand, and across the bridge. He stopped before the door, staring back at their beautiful faces as Vladimir finally crossed the water and forced himself onto the slick marble above.

The women smiled in turn, eyes flickering from the boys to the water. Stefan regained his confidence and responded with a cocky grin as he sheathed his sword. "You can not cross the water, can you? Such a hindrance on powerful beings, wouldn't you agree, Vladimir?" The second nodded his agreement, shivering from the wind that some how made it's way through the room. A scowl met his boastful words, the first woman regaining herself into some sort of smile.

"Say what you will, child. You know not the things we can – and have – done. So, continue on, in your meaningless life. Leave this home."

Boys both turned and continued down the hallway. Eyes cast downward as they walked, until they reached the front of the castle. Vladimir had begun to rub his arms in an attempt to warm him, teeth chattering in defiance of this action. Stefan looked at his brother in despair, before noticing the marks against his neck. Hands flew up and he jerked the other's head to the side, glaring at the marks that had begun to drip.

"You're kidding me, right? That…that woman got her hands on you like this?" Vladimir jerked from his brother's grip and shrugged off his coat as they made their way to the carriage. "I don't believe they contract the disease through their hands, Stefan." He laughed lightly and took his seat in the back of the cart.

The darker haired boy shook his head with a smile. As he sat back, his fist pounded the top of the cart and they lurched forward. "All the same, Vlad, I do not believe we should take that kind of risk." His hands clapped together, cleaning whatever dust he had imagined. "When we get home, have Mom fetch the priest and bless you once more." He leaned back – proud with himself of his authority – folded his hands over his stomach and closed his eyes through the ride.

They set foot in the house no sooner than Stefan's vicious mother tore into the room with a raised wooden handle. The next half hour was spent listening to her shriek about the awful things they had done. Vladimir listened with rapt interest and a flaming throat as his darker haired brother rolled his eyes as punctuation to their mother's loud sentences, eyes trained on the floor or the wall. She had hit both of them with the handle more than once, and now was no exception.

"Stefan!" Then the crack of the handle over his thigh. He jumped, rubbing his thigh with an indignant stare towards the angry woman. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Obviously not, Mother," Vladimir, answered for him, a smile playing on his lips. Her hand lifted in a threating manner. He flinched back and swallowed with a bit of trouble. She watched him then shook her head with a smile.

"You two are nothing but trouble. You will be the death of this family – particularly you, Stefan." The aforementioned lad shrugged, staring at his nails with little interest. "Are we done here, Mother? Father said Vladimir and I were to meet him for training after our (unfortunate) meeting with those ghastly women."

Her dark eyes narrowed, but she waved them away. "I'll talk to them – they've never done such awful things before. Now go, play with your swords."

Boys both jumped up and headed to the backfield with more interest than probably necessary. Waiting for them was the tall, thickly built man. His back was to the two young boys, hands sharpening a sword on his knee. They both fell silent and walked carefully towards their father. His hair was tied back over his shoulders, muscles pulling at the fabric he wore. Stefan, even in his slight frame, was a spitting image of this man.

The training was natural. Stefan and Vladimir sparred, made jokes and eventually got a little angry at one another. It made their father laugh, and finally Mother came around to say the cooks had finished dinner. Sitting at the table, Stefan was condemned to silence as his mother was still angry with him for 'messing up' the interaction with the vampiress and her sister. Vladimir talked, with vivid energy, of the sacrificial gold inlay within the castle. It was his forte, the horrid images and stories of death and sacrifice. It was everything he craved, and everything his brother hated. Their father stifled a laugh when he saw how uncomfortable Stefan looked, finally rising from the table to offer his rightful son some form of sanctuary. They said their goodbyes, then continued down the hall, leaving the enthusiastic blonde with his adoptive mother.

"Was it really that awful?" Asked the larger man, looking over the torch-lit walls with little interest.

"Not particularly. Not until she grabbed Vladimir. I-I wasn't sure what to do. I pulled my sword and tried to attack, but the first one stopped me. That's when we knew what they were." A pause. "Why didn't Mother tell us what we were getting ourselves in to?"

"You're mother is…a complicated woman. But she does have her reasons-you must believe me on that, Stefan."

He nodded at his father's words, and really left it at that. His mother and father were a complicated relationship; she had been married to him so her family could gain some money. They didn't love each other at first – hell, even now they could barely stand each other – but their love was pure and it was something Stefan admired. No matter the fighting, or differences in opinion, they stood by each other and ruled well.

_**A/N: The jump placed in here isn't marked, but it should be pretty obvious. [It's between them getting in the carriage and arriving home]. Any how, please read and review, critique or correct my spelling. I'd appreciate it so very much.**_


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